Now, shall we begin?
by sevenofmine
Summary: Doctor Who/ Torchwood/ Sherlock/ Deep Space Nine: Waking up by an awkward noise, John has to watch how Sherlock disappears into the night finding the sound's origin. Only seconds later he returns heavily injured and in company by a man calling himself just 'the Doctor', rejecting any attempt of John to bring both of them to a hospital... Sherlock/ Doctor Slash; M-rating
1. Darkness is coming

Chapter 1

It was this noise that woke him up. It sounded kind of strange but also common. As if he had heard it before. He sat up straight in his bed and had a look outside the window.

Nothing, it was still the dark night. He sighed and decided to get out and have a look. Entering the hallway, he noticed that Sherlock has also gotten out of bed.

"You heard it as well?" John asked going into the living room.

"There was nothing that could be overheard," Sherlock answered shortly and both of them took a look outside.

"I don't see anything strange," John commented and tried to make something out. The street lamp in opposite of their flat was broken and there was only the little light of the full moon and the other two street lamps about thirty yards away. For a short moment he thought he would have noticed a little blue light but it was gone so fast that his mind must have fooled him around again.

"Like always, John, you notice, but you don't see," Sherlock muttered and put on his dark blue bathrobe.

"You're not going out like this, are you?" John wanted to know but rather preferred to stay inside and watch Sherlock from the window. The detective has just left the house and crossed the street. He seemed to be turning around a few times and then headed toward the other street lamp that must have been recently gone out as well.

Suddenly, Sherlock was swallowed by darkness. John's mouth dropped open, where has his friend gone? He couldn't spot him anymore, he was out of sight.

"Oh Sherlock," he murmured to himself and sat down in the armchair. He played with the thought of following, but knowing him, he surely was already far away, haunting some ghosts under the full moon shining down on them.

He did that, taking every opportunity to get a distraction from boring life, although it didn't seem boring to anyone else. But like every sociopath – John still preferred to think about him as partly psychopathic as those were 'easier' to calculate, actually meaning the exact opposite – he got bored pretty soon and when he was, he could do things that John would have never dreamed about.

He shook his head, "I should go back to bed," he told himself knowing that Sherlock would appear in the morning, telling some fascinating story including of course his fantastic sense of deduction…whatever. John was tired and he wanted to sleep.

But when he got up from the armchair, he heard that sound again. He must be getting old.

Trying not to fall over some books lying across the room, he made his way to the hallway when he thought he'd get crazy. This was the third time this damn noise was fooling him around and playing with the few nerves he still had when being woken up in the middle of the night.

Then there was another sound, a pair of feet running up to the house. The door was slammed against the wall, something that Sherlock would surely only do when being in an bloody good mood – or in a miserable one. There were voices, someone moaned and the light was going on.

John walked backwards trying to have a look on what was crawling up the stairs. And then his speech was gone once more: It was Sherlock, being hold up by an unknown person, carrying him upwards.

"Sherlock," John muttered in surprise. He could barely hold himself on his feet and the other guy dropped him softly on the couch. John put on the living room lights and nearly frightened to death.

Sherlock wasn't himself anymore, his hair was short, not that curly anymore. He looked older, his cheekbones were more intense and his skin was paler than ever.

All over his black clothes – which weren't his pyjama anymore – were stains of dark blood. Coming closer, John realized that some of the spots were dried but that his friend was still bleeding from serious wounds all over his body.

"What happened?" he asked both in disbelief and disgust.

"I – I'm sorry but I think he got in some trouble…well, we did," the other man said as Sherlock was obviously in too much pain to answer. John eyeballed the guy, despite the fact that the short-brown haired, handsome guy was wearing a neat suit, he was also covered in blood and its spots were growing bigger although he hardly seemed to notice.

"Who are you?" John asked while slowly staggering toward Sherlock. He sat down on the couch next to him and felt the pulse at his neck. It was slow, too slow.

"John," Sherlock moaned and tried to reach up his hand. It looked nastily burned and trembled seriously.

"I'll get you in a hospital, both of you," he decided when tearing the detective's shirt apart and noticing how many bruises and burns he had.

"I don't think that's a good idea," the unfamiliar man said, seeming to also have enormous pain although trying not to admit that.

"And who are you to decide? What your name anyway?"

"Well, I'm the doctor," the guy said immediately.

"The doctor?" John asked.

"Poor choice of words, I know."

"The doctor who? And if you are so, why couldn't you help him?" John asked upset jumping up to search something to cool the wounds.

"Not that kind of a doctor," the guy said and intended to follow him into the kitchen.

"Doctor," Sherlock suddenly moaned and the guy rushed back to the couch. John shook his head. Whatever Sherlock has gotten himself into this time, it was damn serious and he'd better have a good explanation. He grabbed a cloth from the kitchen table and soaked it with cold water.

He came back into the living room and found 'the doctor' bending over Sherlock who seemed to whisper something into his ear that John couldn't understand. Not interpreting too much into this, he came forward and pressed the cold tissue on Sherlock's most severe looking wounds. He screamed the lungs out of him but it was necessary. "No argument, Sherlock. We're driving to the hospital. You need to be checked by a doctor."

"There're two here," he answered still trying to cope with the pain.

"I mean a doctor with equipment and enough assistance," John said and helped Sherlock sit up although that even caused him more pain. "What about you?" John asked and looked up at the guy calling himself 'the doctor' who just has been standing there all the time watching them.

"Oh, I can't come with you," he responded quickly.

"But you're hurt, you need medical assistance," John argued and tried to help Sherlock up. The last time he carried him into his bed he hadn't felt that heavy, he thought while putting his arm around his shoulder.

"Oh, it isn't so bad. Not even far enough for a regeneration," the doctor joked and John didn't understand a word although he was relieved that at least Sherlock was smiling.

"You also come to hospital, doctor," John added, "no argument."

"Come with me," Sherlock muttered and looked up into the unreadable face of the still to John unknown man.

"And the master has spoken," the doctor answered and helped carrying Sherlock down the stairs and while John still tried to get a taxi, Sherlock muttered a few words but then fell unconscious in the doctors arms, holding him softly and placing him on the ground where he tenderly touched the detective's pale skin.

**Please write me some reviews. :)**


	2. For I will return

Chapter 2

*About two years earlier*

As soon as John has left the living room, Sherlock jumped up from the armchair. He had a job to do. He picked up the pink cell phone and the data stick which he had stored in his house shoes.

Quickly, he put on his jacket and scarf and left his house in Bakerstreet. It was a cold evening and the night has already begun. He waved over a taxi and entered. "North swimming pool," he said and leaned back. He watched the bright neon-colors rushing by, London was even more awake at night than during daylight.

Suddenly, the car stopped. Sherlock wanted to ask what the matter was but then he saw it. This street was shut due to the beginning of the Olympics which took place in London this year. The impatient Sherlock paid the taxi driver and got out the cab to walk the last few hundred yards himself.

He tried to get past the crowd but obviously the torch was about to arrive. Sherlock sighed and knew that he had no chance of arriving at the swimming pool in time. He saw how the guy came running down the street, he was already breathing heavily.

But suddenly, the detective noticed something strange. It only was a matter of a few seconds, but he thought that he has just seen something disappearing into the torch. The athlete stumbled a few times, then caught himself but all of sudden, he broke down and fell on the ground. There were loud screams from all over but the police held everyone back – except for one guy.

He managed to get on the street, took the torch and continued heroeicly the run down the street and toward the Olympic stadium. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He must have met this guy before. He was absolutely sure about it, but right now, he had no time of thinking about this.

The crowd was slowly disappearing and he continued further toward the swimming pool.

* * *

*About seven years earlier*

It was that sound that made Sherlock look up. He had been so concentrated in his books that he hardly paid attention to his environment. But there it was, that awkward noise. He walked a few steps backward and suddenly noticed a blue police box standing around the corner. He could swear that it hadn't been there before.

A girl came running out of it and fell into arms of obviously his mother, both blond, both the same eye color. And the boyfriend, Sherlock thought shaking his head. Looks like they haven't seen each other for some while. Then, someone else came out of the box, it was a man, mid-twenties, brown hair, leather jacket.

"Who's that?" the mother asked surprised. Sherlock hid himself around the corner. Although nothing surprised him anymore about human reaction, it was awkward that both the young girl and this man had been inside the police box – which has suddenly appeared out of nothing.

"It's the doctor!" the girl shouted and repeated her sentences.

Sherlock gathered his books together and continued his walk. He needed to finish his experimental work today for the last few pages of his final exam. And as today was Christmas Eve, surely no one was in the lab and he could be all on his own. He has just arrived in the basement of the university when his cell phone rang.

"Mycroft, what do you want?" he answered coldly and sorted the books in a chaotic order and while talking cleaned the experiment table.

"I thought mother would like to hear from you."

"Have you called her?" Sherlock asked bored.

"Yes. She hasn't heard from you in ages."

"And she won't here from me in ages," the scientist answered with a smile and hung up the phone. Before his brother could redial the number, he put it on mute and stored it in an empty conical flask and let it vibrate for some while.

He hasn't even notice that the sun has risen again until a sudden shadow fell on the distillation apparatus. He looked up and couldn't believe his eyes. It seemed as if a huge, gigantic rock was hanging over the earth. For the first moment in his whole life, his mouth dropped open and he couldn't realize what he was seeing right now.

It seemed so unnatural, so extraterrestrial. After a long time, he had given up believing in a first contact, at least for the next few decades. Suddenly, he saw the university gardener walking right over his recently planted flowers.

He seemed like in a hypnosis, Sherlock knocked on the window but he didn't react to the sound. "That's…fascinating," he commented and ran out of the lab. In the hallway, he met the librarian who was one of the few working early on Boxing Day.

She also seemed like in trance and didn't react to Sherlock's shouting or his grip. "Where are you going?" he wanted to know and followed her climbing up the stairs. Only then did he realize that she was about to step onto the roof.

"No!" he yelled and ran after her. Luckily, she stopped short at the edge of the roof, but only then did Sherlock realize that they weren't alone up here. It seems as a third of London was standing on roof tops, waiting for the order to jump or whatever was going to happen.

"Oh my," Sherlock sighed and heard the shouts of people who wanted to protect the friends and family from jumping down. Sherlock walked on, there were only few people on the ground looking up and praying for nothing bad to happen.

Then he saw that man again, 'the doctor' as he had been called, and also the girl and her mother, as well as the black guy, all staring up. The three of them carried 'the doctor' dressed in a pyjama into the police box. "Funny," Sherlock muttered but widened his eyes, when the whole blue box seemed to disappear into the sky – or rather toward the rock that was still flying all over them.

There happened nothing for quite a while. But then it seemed as if a part of the rock was breaking away and with it some sort of lifeform. Sherlock couldn't spot its landing point, it was too far away.

But however, all people came to life again. "What happened?" the librarian asked and stepped away from the roof top.

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted with an uncertain feeling. He went to the edge of the roof again and saw the blue box once more. There were some people gathering around and he wanted to take a closer look but suddenly the whole rock which has been flying away already exploded with an enormous noise into millions of tiny pieces.

"Oh my god!" the librarian shouted and searched shelter inside. But Sherlock stayed on the roof for quite a while and watched 'the doctor' and his companions down on the street a few blocks away. Then, the young girl followed him into the police box and the blue light began to blink and – it disappeared. Sherlock blinked twice.

Has it disappeared into nothing? Where was it gone? He closed his eyes and in the mid of the university roof top of London, he entered his mind palace, sorting and storing his thoughts. But he didn't come to any conclusion that day. And neither did he the following weeks…

* * *

*Another few months earlier*

It was the day of the final exams. Well, it had been the day. Sherlock was finished and could now fully concentrate on his last practical work of the university. It was a fascinating matter – although his professor thought differently about his topic. But he didn't care.

As most of the other students celebrated the evening with large amounts of alcohol and drugs, Sherlock preferred to rather stay alone. He settled down on a bench in a nearly empty park and put his collar high up. He opened the latest science magazine which was already full of his notes and improvements. He took out his packet of cigarettes and cursed his brother for having replaced all of his current packages with low tar ones.

Slowly, he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, breathing slowly out the smoke and feeling it glide through his lips and teeth. "Now I can think," he muttered and read on the article.

But whatever he tried, he couldn't quite concentrate. Something was bothering him, something he had noticed. There has been this explosion a little while ago, in a shop somewhere close to the Piccadilly circus. There hasn't been found any trace of reason, neither a fire accelerant nor the origin of the source.

He had proposed several things to that young cop, Lestrade and he had even supported him with some burned plastics that he had bagged at the crime scene. But what Sherlock has found was simple plastic, and it stayed plastic whatever he tried. But whatever has happened, it must have burned with an incredible heat, more than just the normal temperature of a fire, not even an explosion.

This was what unsettled him. He inhaled the last drag of his cigarette and grinded it on the ground. Slowly blowing out the smoke, feeling the nicotine and several other toxins whose formula he could easily write diffusing in his blood, but not reaching his mind.

Something was blocking it…something – shouts. No, not shouts. It was what he heard, people screaming and yelling in panic. He stood up immediately, nearly dropping the magazine.

It came from downtown, suddenly there were blasts of fire and people running for it.

Without thinking twice, Sherlock wanted to see what was happening.

**Please review.**


	3. To Have

**Sorry that it took me so long to continue...but I hadn't had time to write the showdown and when I wanted to, I needed to re-read the rest of the story as it will become quite complicated. I try to explain everything with logic and I hope that I won't have any major paradoxes or continuity mistakes in this fanfiction.**

Chapter 3

*Last Christmas*

John had actually managed to invite all his 'friends' to Bakerstreet at Christmas Eve. Counting Mrs. Hudson, Inspector Lestrade was also there, as the relation with his wife wasn't going as planned. Sherlock has been persuaded to play the violin and finally, even Molly had arrived. After he had heard about what has happened – or rather not happened – to Irene Adler, he drove to St. Bartholomew together with Molly where he met his brother.

"All life ends. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock," his older brother advised him. And so right you are, Sherlock thought, never having cared for any closer relationship, doubting that he'd ever find someone and scared of clinging women like Irene.

Disgusted he blew out the smoke, "this is low tar," he commented aware of the fact that his brother actually knew how much he hated the light ones.

"Well, you barely knew her," he justified his choice. Sherlock shook his head and went down the corridor, "merry Christmas," he wished Mycroft and pushed open the door to the hallway.

He took another deep drag and knew that this one low-tar cigarette would definitely not satisfy his need of nicotine patches. He walked out into the dark night and his way back to Bakerstreet. He knew that it has only been a diversionary tactic for John and Mrs. Hudson searching his things but he has kept his drugs safely hidden.

Having arrived in his bedroom at Bakerstreet, he saw that there was no point in pretending that everything was okay. He has identified Irene Adler, but he doubted that she had truly died. Exhausted, he sank down on his bed and had a look around. They had been really careful this time not to destroy his order but still he didn't want to spend the rest of the time waiting for a life sign of Irene.

He had better things to do and after all, she was nothing more than just a 'fan' wanting his attention. The evening of the next day, he decided to walk out again. Perhaps he was going to find a hint to Irene Adler and if she was still in Great Britain or perhaps something that had to do with that awkward appearance of a huge ship above the Buckingham Palace which was already thought to be a fake – like the gigantic rock and the enormous star on the sky the previous years.

The streets were empty and after what has been told about something nearly scratching the named building, it was understandable. But he wasn't that superstitious, he still wanted a scientific explanation for what has been happening the last few years in London.

Only one year ago, there had been these metal-boxes all over the world, and fighting against 'Cybermen', as Sherlock has later found out their name. The living plastic-story, the 'ghosts' which no one seemed or cared to be able to explain, but he didn't give up that easily. There were already all kind of conspiracy theories and didn't believe even one of them – although he has read them all.

So it slowly became night when he was wandering alone the Thames, watching his own shillouette reflecting in the water along with the blurry lights swimming on its surface. But suddenly he saw something. Something uncommonly unfamiliar to him. And there it was – a blue police call box from the fifties. Curiously, he started to walk over there. It had begun to snow which didn't make it easier to figure out what was imagination and what was really there.

But he stopped as suddenly two persons appeared out of nowhere. It was an older man and – the one he has come to known as 'the doctor'. He has now seen him already twice although never actually meeting him. But somehow their paths have been crossing. Sherlock came nearer and hid beneath the dark trees for not being seen.

"I travel alone," 'the doctor' just said to the other man. This one nodded and began to walk away, "merry Christmas," he wished and disappeared into the direction of the Thames.

"Merry Christmas," the younger guy said, still the dark brown hair, this time in a suit, he seemed not to have aged a bit. When he turned to the blue box again, his movement suddenly stopped and he hesitated. Slowly, he turned back and he looked directly at Sherlock standing near the woods. Their eye contact lasted only for a few seconds until the man decided to continue and disappeared into the blue box.

"Fascinating," Sherlock muttered when he heard that strangely known sound of the box which then became invisible – or rather disappeared. The detective still stood there for a while looking after that box which has for long vanished and snow was falling on the spot where it had stood. "Really fascinating," Sherlock murmured again and returned home.

*Now*

John looked up from his laptop writing his blog when Sherlock suddenly stopped playing the violin. He just wanted to ask what was up when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"What is it now, brother?" the detective wanted to know putting away his violin and not even turning around. John smiled, he definitely had to bring this into his stories.

"A case – I've heard you don't have one these days," the older brother said and smiled as well, waving with a file in his hand.

"Not interested doing the government's dirty work. I though you know that," Sherlock answered and jumped into the armchair.

"It is very urgent, Sherlock. It is about Adipose Industries."

"The company producing those new diet pills?" John asked interested and welcomed the file that Mycroft handed him over.

"Have you tried them?" Sherlock asked pointing out that Mycroft was either still on diet or that his diet actually seemed to work.

"No, we have concerns regarding the legal use and the side effects of the pill. We think that something is not right with that company."

"How did you notice?" John asked, obviously more alarmed than his friend.

"A fellow institute warned us," Mycroft stayed mysterious.

"Torchwood?" Sherlock asked playing with his violin tuner.

"How do you _know_ about that?" Mycroft asked amazed as his mouth dropped open.

"I have my sources," he commented trying not to give away that a 'source' has illegally logged into some data files concerning that research facility because they have seemed to gather a valuable amount of information regarding 'the doctor'.

"Torchwood is one of the most secret institutes of whole Great Britain. Everything that has to do with it is highly classified."

"Such a huge institute can't be successfully hidden for more than two hundred years," Sherlock said shortly and smiled.

"However," Mycroft searched the topic instead, "I would like you to do some research regarding the diet pills of Adipose Industries and find out if something's going on there. And don't pretend you wouldn't be interested, Sherlock, you seem to underestimate me from time to time." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and left the room.

"And, interested?" John asked skipping through the pages of material.

"Be ashamed if not," Sherlock answered and jumped up.

"Where are you going?" John asked while he put on his coat and scarf.

"Adipose Industries."

"Already? You haven't even read the files!"

"For sure I have," Sherlock said and winked at him.

**Yes, this is now a Doctor Who/ Sherlock/ Torchwood/ Star Trek crossover...Have fun ;) (And don't worry if you don't know all the series. You don't have to know Torchwood or Star Trek to read on.)**


	4. My vengeance

Chapter 4

"The literal meaning of 'Your fat walking away'? Come on, John, you've had better titles," Sherlock complained when he just came into the living room. He was still wearing his bathrobe and had a look at John's blog which he was already writing before even having had breakfast.

"It was just amazing. People would never believe that story," John answered.

"People also didn't believe the living plastics, the aliens in Downing Street and at Christmas day. Even for the Atmos-desaster, the government had an explanation that didn't include an invasion of Earth. And you believe they'll let you blog this without consequences," Sherlock said and went back to the bathroom to dry his hair.

John just sighed and stopped writing. He didn't know what Sherlock was doing when they had found this worker tied up in her chair. John had been helping her and she had complained that this was the second time but Sherlock had run away.

Later, they had met again but when the fat-things had been flying up, he hadn't been there either – although he claimed that he had watched this from the roof. John had no idea, that once again he has been witnessing the actions of a yet to most humans unknown aliens, one of the most powerful of the universe.

Little while later, Sherlock sat in the kitchen, again hanging over his microscope. John knew it would be of no benefit asking what he was doing as they still didn't have a case. And it didn't seem as if they were going to get one as London was still busy cleaning up after all the cars have run amok – a malfunction in the ventilation system as it was said.

But finally, John gave up and threw the newspaper on the table and walked over to the detective. "What are you doing?" he asked and sat down on the chair opposite to him.

"I had managed to get a probe of the gas from the cars. I've been examining it yesterday evening at the hospital. Some parts of it were unknown to the mass spectrometer."

"And?"

"It's impossible. Now, I got hold of a piece of the Atmos system but it seems as if it was somehow…altered."

"Altered by what?"

"The metal doesn't seem right…it must have been something sonic interacting with it. I have already asked the London Institute but I can't get hold of a better microscope. It must be something in the nano area…"

"You know that hardly anything you say makes sense for me, Sherlock?"

The detective shortly looked up, "that's the plan," he smiled and then leaned back. "It doesn't make sense," he finally concluded.

"That's a great deduction. But if you told me more…"

Sherlock wasn't listening, he had already put out his cell and started googling. "Too small…mind if I borrow your laptop?" he asked and was already on the way to John's computer.

"Not at all," he muttered while the detective was already searching some information.

"Blue box…you're googling blue box?" John asked surprised when Sherlock clicked on the third entry of the page.

"Oh, that's impossible…they missed most of its sightings…" Sherlock muttered but then immediately got up.

"What is it now?" John asked when he watched him putting on his coat and scarf.

"I'm going to visit someone. You coming with me?"

"Of course," he answered and hurried after the detective.

* * *

"A hospital?" John asked when he left the cab.

"Yes, after she had worked as a soldier for some time, she had wanted to return to a normal hospital," Sherlock answered and added, "I asked Mycroft to send me some important information about her on my mobile phone, but of course, he has no idea about who she actually is. However, we need to be fast before Torchwood is alarmed."

"Torchwood? You mind telling me what it is exactly?"

"Oh, they're working with everything that is about or from aliens," Sherlock said and ignored how John's mouth dropped open. Sherlock and his friend walked inside the crowded hospital. They were still treating injuries from the latest Atmos-'attacks' and so they both had to wait a while until the secretary had time for them. "Is there a doctor Martha Jones working here?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. She's currently treating patients on the fifth floor, I'm sorry but they're all quite busy up there."

"Oh, don't worry," Sherlock said and already walked away, leaving both the secretary and John with an astonished look.

John has finally reached the fifth floor and spotted Sherlock at the window. "What is it?" he wanted to know but only followed Sherlock's finger pointing outside.

"What the hell is this?" he said but Sherlock already rushed away. "You son of a-" John cursed and hated it when his whole life seemed to consist of running and asking.

He stopped when he noticed Sherlock leaning against a wall, listening to someone inside. He took a short glimpse and saw a young doctor just phoning someone.

"Doctor?...I'm so glad to hear from you. Listen, there is something awkward happening. There're huge, gigantic dragon-like creatures outside of the hospital I'm working in…paradox? But there hasn't been a paradox-…Are you coming? Please, they seem to be waiting to attack…I don't know how old the hospital is but I think it was build about two centuries ago, but it has been modernized…yes, when…?... See you soon, please come." She hang up the phone and stared outside of the window where just another one of these 'things' appeared.

Patients and visitors have noticed the dragons as well, starting to scream and to panic which made Sherlock just roll his eyes. Typical behavior toward something unknown.

The doctor came out and noticed the two man in the corridor. "Who are you two? Have you been listening?" she asked surprised.

"What are these things?" Sherlock asked directly.

"What should I know?"

"Have you been calling the doctor? What has he told you?"

"Who are you?" the woman now said more serious.

"This is John Watson, I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"The detective? Well, there's nothing to detect here."

"Except for the dragons outside. What do they have with paradoxes?" Sherlock asked and came closer to her. "You can trust me," he added.

"What do you know about the doctor?" she wanted to know, still distrusting him.

"I've read about him, spotted him in several occasions. But I had problems getting the classified Torchwood files, so not that much," he admitted.

"Those dragons are created by paradoxes. But as far as I've noticed, there's no paradox yet here," she muttered.

"Is he coming? Dr. Jones, is the doctor now coming here?"

"Yes…how do you know my name?"

Sherlock backed away, obviously thinking about something. "How does he know my name?" Martha asked John.

"Oh, he said he was coming to see you here…I assume. He doesn't really talk…"

"Predestination paradox, of course!" Sherlock shouted loudly and before John or Martha could blink twice, he was already running to the staircase at the end of the floor.

"I know someone who's exactly like him," Martha muttered and both she and John started to follow the detective.

The two doctors spotted Sherlock who they had lost out of sight, again on the first floor. He was fighting his way to the main entrance door which was blocked by so many people trying to get into the building. There were only few dragon-like creatures outside and yet they didn't seem to cause any trouble than flying around the building. Sherlock has nearly managed it to the door when he heard that familiar noise again.

He looked around and ran into one of the nearly empty corridors as the people were gathering in the main hall. And there it was, around the corner there stood the blue box, it seemed bigger than the last time he has seen it and before Sherlock could back off to hide, the doctor himself was stepping out.

"Hey, I know you," he said and stared at the detective.

"You shouldn't have come here. I have no idea who you are but your friend told me that this dragons out there are coming when a paradox is being created," Sherlock answered quickly.

"And where's the paradox?" the doctor wanted to know and had a look around.

"There is none yet…predestination paradox as it seems."

"What? That's impossible," the doctor said and shook his head. "That would mean the dragons appeared and Martha called me so I travelled here. But the dragons only appeared because I travelled here because of them. It would be a circle without ending. It can't be such a usual reason for a paradox," the doctor said and walked toward the crowded entry hall.

"Doctor!" someone suddenly screamed from the other side of the room. The man, not seeming to have aged since the last time Sherlock has met him, turned around.

"Oh no," he muttered when another man came running toward him. Sherlock watched the scene, rising an eyebrow when the new man hugged 'the doctor'. "Jack, what are you…? Who's that?" the doctor asked when someone else came around the corner.

"Too many people," Sherlock muttered and looked at the blonde woman now appearing.

"Jenny?" the doctor said surprised.

"You know each other?" the man called Jack asked.

"Yes, she's my…daughter," the doctor answered and walked closer to the young woman.

"What?" both Jack and Sherlock asked at once. While the doctor still muttered something about 'I watched you dying', Jack came over to the detective to introduce himself. "Hello, I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. You don't seem to have a ship?"

"Jenny has one. Mine got destroyed when I tried to rescue mankind."

"Jack, stop it," the doctor already shouted.

"Why can't I never say hello to anyone?" Jack asked and winked at Sherlock.

"I need to find out why there seems to be a paradox," the doctor said and walked over to the huge crowd of frightened people who had no idea what this was all about.

"Doctor!" Martha screamed and hugged him. "Where's Donna?"

"Oh, she was visiting her family and she said she'd come over soon. She's already in the right time." The doctor walked over to the window and ignored how all the other people related to him continued asking questions and wondering what the hell was happening. "Oh no," he suddenly muttered when he recognized the red-haired woman outside.

"No!" he shouted when Donna was running over him, just evading a collision with one of these dragons but another one has already targeted her. Realizing the danger, all of them, the doctor, Jenny, Sherlock, Jack and John ran out of the building and toward Donna. But it was too late.

John stumbled and could hardly see what was happening. Right over Donna's head another one of these 'things' appeared and grabbed her. It started to fly off but Sherlock just caught Donna in time so that the dragon was pulled back by the new weight. Jenny also jumped up, performing two somersaults in the air and got hold of one wing of the dragons.

But despite everything, the unlikely happened: Another one appeared directly next to Jenny, its wings colliding with Donna and Sherlock so that he had to let her go. The detective fell down on the ground and Donna was torn apart by the huge black creature. The doctor, trying to help Jenny who was still hanging on one of the dragons, also fell down when the other Reapers began to attack.

No one could really see what was going on anymore but John only heard Martha scream loudly and watched her falling down next to her on the ground. "Dr. Jones," he muttered and tried to feel her pulse. Blood was flowing all over her face and he heard suddenly other shouts.

Jenny was hitting the ground after she had seen how Jack has been attacked by one of them. "Leave him!" the doctor shouted when his daughter was kneeing over the body.

"She seemed to have loved him," Sherlock muttered, standing next to the doctor, both watched after the pieces of Donna that the Reaper left falling down. "He is immortal," the doctor muttered and ran over to John and the injured Martha.

Sherlock decided to get to Jack who looked damn dead for an immortal. "He'll be okay," Sherlock said and pulled Jenny away from the Captain.

"No!" she shouted and hit Sherlock. In the meanwhile, John and the doctor carried Martha back inside the hospital, while the timelord still shouted at Sherlock to get Jenny inside.

"Come on," the detective shouted loudly, losing his control as never before. There was so much to process, so much information that tried to get stored in his brain so that he grabbed Jenny harder to pull her inside the hospital. They were still arguing when Sherlock noticed that Jack started to move again, regaining his consciousness.

But the Reapers were still flying around them and as he couldn't watch all around him, they began to attack at once. "I loved Jack!" Jenny shouted, not seeing that her boyfriend was alive, and tried to free herself from Sherlock's grip. She kicked him into his stomach, turned around and hit him directly into his face. She wanted to beat him again, when one of the creatures' wing strived her body.

She fell to the ground and while only seeing the stones, she fumbled in her pocket for the knife that a soldier was always carrying. She heard the Reaper again and stood up, wanting to push the knife deeply into the beast but didn't notice Sherlock also standing up to fight the 'thing'.

John was trying to nurse Martha's wounds when the doctor already got up again to help Jack, Sherlock and Jenny. He was already at the door when he saw the Reapers attacking Jenny and the detective. Like in slow motion, he saw her pulling her knife, stumbling forward but the Reaper nearly swallowed them up so she pushed forward his knife – but instead hitting the dragon, it landed in Sherlock's chest.

Both of them fell to the ground at once, Jenny turned around to see the Reaper flying away. But Sherlock didn't move. Jack came already running forward, kneed over the detective who breathing slowly. Jack pulled the knife out of his chest and pressed his hands on the wound. The doctor couldn't understand what Jack was screaming at Jenny, but she only shouted back and stood up.

The doctor came running out of the hospital, ignoring the surprising fact that the Reapers didn't attack anymore and wanted to follow Jenny but she was already running away toward London's downtown. So he kneed beside Jack who had pulled of his own shirt to push it on Sherlock's chest. He was moaning in pain and together, they managed to carry him inside the building again, where he lay down next to Martha.

"How is she?" Jack asked when he felt Sherlock's pulse.

"She's dead," John said suddenly with a monotonous voice, trying to bear his sorrow for the young doctor who has just died because of something no one of them seemed to fully understand.

"What about Sherlock?" John asked and crawled to his best friend.

"His heart beat is too slow," the doctor said when he was listening to it.

"Give him to me," suddenly a voice said behind them. They all looked up at once and recognized – the doctor.

"What? What? No!" 'their' doctor shouted and stood up. "This is impossible! We can't see each other at the same time! This isn't allowed."

"While you become me, you'll find that it is necessary to resolve the paradox," the second doctor said and kneed down next to Sherlock.

"You must to the reason for the Reapers and the paradox!"

"No, the reason for the paradox is him!" he said and pointed at Jack.

"What me? I have just been following the traces of the doctor!"

"Exactly," the second doctor said and gave Sherlock a small bottle to drink.

"What's this?" the first doctor asked.

"I can't tell. But you need to get inside your TARDIS now," the second one ordered while he watched Sherlock drink this stuff. "This," he further explained, "is from New Earth. It is one of the last medicines that survived after the hospital got destroyed. I've placed a list with what you have to do inside the floor of your TARDIS. I only know what I did because I placed it there and read it."

"Oh, you explain me something that you only know because you were me and got it explained by you! Fantastic!" the first one screamed and already ran off into the TARDIS.

"Do we have to understand this?" John asked with a worried face looking at Sherlock who seemed to get even paler.

"No," Jack said and leaned against the wall.

"It is easy," the other doctor now said. "Listen, John. Sherlock will lose consciousness right now. But he'll get fit again, I promise. These dragons have appeared because of the paradox that was created. Sherlock was supposed to die by the hand of my daughter. This is paradoxical because it's actually the other way round."

"You mean, Sherlock will kill your daughter?" John asked surprised.

"Yes. Jenny has discovered now that she still is a soldier. So she searched war and destruction from now on. She'll bring chaos and we'll have to stop her. Both Martha and Donna have already died, but I can't kill my own daughter. I've met Sherlock now several times and I had wanted to ask him if he liked to come with me. So I did…or rather will do. We'll find my daughter and he is supposed to kill her for all the terrible things she has done. Now, that she actually killed Sherlock, a paradox was created. So I needed to break my own rules to save Sherlock and terminate the paradox!"

There was a long silence, before Jack turned around and noticed, "the Reapers have gone."

"Exactly!"

"Reapers?" John asked. He still hardly understood a word.

"Not so important. Now, go home with Sherlock. I will return but first I need you back in Torchwood," he then said to Jack.

"Why?" the Captain asked, already wondering why he couldn't be the companion of the doctor on his search for the daughter.

"I need to know where my daughter fled to. She has somehow got hold of a time machine as well, not like the TARDIS but similar. You need to get me the information and when you have it, we can end the paradox completely," he said and jumped up on his feet.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Jack asked while following the doctor back to his TARDIS.

"Actually not," he said and left both Sherlock and John back in the hospital.

**This doesn't make sense as long as you don't think about it. If you do think about it, it makes even less sense. So please review. And the rest is just wibbly-wobbly...timey-wimey...stuff ;)**


	5. Your world is not safe

**Doctor Who/ Sherlock/ Torchwood/ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - crossover. So have fun reading :P**

**Just kidding. You don't need to know Star Trek. I just needed a space station (not the one of DW Series 1 final episode). This story is only short, but please read the note at the end!**

**But nevertheless: Have fun reading! :)**

Chapter 5

"What has taken you so long?" Sherlock asked when he entered the blue box.

"Well, this and that," the doctor answered and went to the control panels.

"It's bigger from the inside," the detective said and had a look around.

"Listen, this might be all new for you and I don't know why, but you have to be the one…"

"Killing your daughter? How do you know at all?" Sherlock asked and came closer to him.

"You know, time is not a line…rather a big ball of wibbly-wobbly…timey-wimey…stuff," the doctor explained and for the first time, stopped his hectic manner.

"There is so much you need to know and so much I want to show you. In a kind of way, you remind me on Rose."

"Rose?"

"A companion I once had. Now, she's trapped in the parallel universe."

"Is she blonde?"

"Yes, you saw her once? How often have you actually seen me and why are you not screaming of joy and not-understanding like Martha and Donna?"

"The first time I saw you was at Christmas Eve. Since then, I think I stumbled at the around at the edge of the whole mystery."

"Well, it's not a mystery…rather a puzzle. You know, I feel pretty alone when I travel…I think that's the reason why I asked you to come along at all. I've done some background search on you."

"So did I on you…"

"Really? Something interesting?"

"No, I still couldn't get hold on the Torchwood files."

"Oh, don't worry, they're boring," the doctor answered and went back to the controls. He sighed and thought for a moment. "How good can you process information? I mean, you're one of the most intelligent people currently on Earth but…you're human after all…nevertheless," he said and put both his hands on Sherlock's face with his prominent cheekbones. "This is called a mind-meld. Just open yourself and let me tell you everything you need to know. I don't want my daughter to die but I forgave the guy who killed her in the first place. But I have seen the consequences for her acting and I'd be too kind. She's a soldier and she won't stop fighting. I need to stop her but I can't do it."

It took them a while to complete it and Sherlock sank down on the ground, closing his eyes and trying to think about everything he has just learnt. Even for him, it was overwhelming knowledge and he hardly noticed how the doctor already started the TARDIS to travel to where they were going to encounter Jenny.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked when the TARDIS came to a halt.

"Take a look outside," the doctor said with his typical smile. He tried not to think about what their actual plan was: killing his daughter. He has already lost one child and it was an unbearable thing that he could still not live with and never would.

How could he then witness his other child to die, after all, he could be made responsible for that as well. He was leading Jenny's killer to her. He wiped away a tear when Sherlock opened the door of the 'police box'.

Sherlock opened the door and had a look outside. It seemed as if they were in a storage room and he walked out of the police box and eyeballed his environment. The doctor followed him and walked toward one of the doors.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked when they stepped out into a corridor.

"Deep Space Nine, a space station near the planet Bajor," the doctor explained and added, "I think somewhere close to 2373."

"Wow," Sherlock said amazed and he wasn't often.

"Jack said that Jenny would appear here soon. But unfortunately, the station is big," the timelord explained and pulled out his sonic screwdriver and activated it on one of the consoles at the wall. "Ah, we are here," he pointed at a little dot.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow when he saw how the station looked like, absolutely futuristic. No wonder, as they were over 350 years into the future.

"Allons-y," the doctor said and let the way through the corridors. They arrived at a bigger area which was labeled as the Promenades. Suddenly, Sherlock noticed a familiar face and pointed at a person sitting at the bar. "He told me that he would actually not be here," the doctor muttered and walked over to the bar where he sat down next to Jack.

"I'm sorry but I needed to come," the Captain explained.

"So…is it you just after you detected her on this station or is it you three hundred years older?"

"I have found a way to repair this," Jack said and held up his time agent-'watch'.

"Oh, so you travelled here. Now you can go again," the doctor said annoyed.

"No. I need to say good-bye to her. I love her!"

"No, you don't. She is a soldier, she was created to kill and-"

Suddenly, a warning sound was activated and the light became dimmed and red. On every console, the words 'Red Alert' blinked and station staff began to hectically run to their positions. "Come with me," the doctor ordered and both Jack and Sherlock followed him. They arrived at a shuttle bay where the doctor accessed the station's sensors once more. "Seems like the Dominion is attacking," he muttered.

"Dominion?" Sherlock asked for the first time in his life confused.

"A coalition of different races," Jack explained and smiled at the detective. The station rocked and alien soldiers began to beam down on the floors and in the shuttlebay. The three went into hiding but suddenly recognized the doctor's daughter. She was walking toward the soldiers but they didn't eliminated but ignored her instead.

"Stand up," a voice said behind them. When Sherlock turned around, he saw a huge male 'alien' pointing a gun at him.

"Oh, I see you have found me," Jenny said now also noticing the three intruders.

"Jenny…what are you doing?" Jack asked.

"I'm sorry, Jack. But I finally found my destiny and the Dominion can give me all I ever wanted: war!"

Without another warning she raised her gun and shot Jack in the chest who flew backward immediately. "And now to you, father…you rather want your own daughter to die than a stranger?"

"You don't understand…you never did," he said. Analyzing the situation, he threw himself on the only Jem'Hadar behind him while Sherlock did the same falling onto his daughter. They struggled for the gun which flew to the other end of the room.

The daughter stood up but the detective caught her foot, pulling her back again. She kicked him several times into his face before he let her go and he ran after her. She threw herself on the gun and turned around at the same moment. Sherlock evaded the phaser beam only for a few inches and fell against a pile of empty boxes. He landed on the ground and the half-timelord stood over him.

She targeted his head but he kicked away her legs so that he could jump back on her. He ripped away the gun and deactivated it before she could get it back. She punched her fist against his chest and tried to stand up. He hit her back but she already landed on his back again, trying to push away his hands. He free himself from her grip and already soaked in his own blood, he managed to push her against some containers.

He had a quick look aside where the doctor was fighting with the soldier. This nearly cost him his life as Jenny was up to her feet again and threw a bottle of whatever she had found in that container against his head. He ducked in time but the young woman was kicking him back on the ground. She bent down onto him and pressed his body on the floor.

She reached out for the piece of broken glass and attempted to stab him right into the chest. The moment the glass rushed down, he clenched his head against her head and pressed them together. She cried out but nevertheless the piece of glass drilled into his skin. He yelled out loudly but strengthened the grip on her head. She tried to kick and hit him but Sherlock continued.

Finally, he heard the noise of her skull breaking, being pressed together and the blood ran down her face. She sank down on his body and he pushed her off of him. She hadn't had time to regenerate. She was dead now, forever. Sherlock looked over where Jack and the Doctor occupied some other Jem'Hadar. He stood up, stumbling a bit. He felt so numb but also powerful.

But he has just killed the daughter of someone who trusted him. He has had no choice. He grabbed the gun of a dead soldier alien and helped the doctor and Jack with their fight.

However, they needed to get back to the tardis to leave the station and watching the officers falling while they were escaping, Sherlock knew that the humans and their allies could hardly win this war…

* * *

"We need to return to your timeline," the doctor said when they once arrived at the tardis.

Sherlock sunk down on the floor while the doctor tried to activate the time machine.

Jack kneed down beside him and started to examine the detective's wounds. "You need to see a…real doctor," he muttered and pressed his hands on the most severe wounds to stop the bleeding.

"We're at Bakerstreet," the doctor said after a while.

"You stay here," he ordered Jack while he helped Sherlock up. While opening the door to outside, he did not see the way that Jack looked at Sherlock…nor the kind of glance that Sherlock threw back.

Together they made it up the stairs where they met John. He persuaded them to get to a hospital but when he helped Sherlock into the cab and turned around again, the doctor had vanished.

Sherlock was brought into an operation theatre as his wounds seemed to be very severe. John waited nearly two hours before the doctors told him that he was getting better. John nodded and sat down on the chair in Sherlock's room. The detective hadn't yet gained consciousness but was silently breathing while the machines were filling him with drugs.

* * *

John woke up by the door opening. It was the man called Jack again who sat down next to John at the bed.

"He hasn't woke up yet," John stated the obvious. Jack just nodded and handed him over a bottle of water.

"Drink," he said and John nodded. He was really thirsty.

"It's…"

"Kind of strange? Called RedCon," Jack answered and took back the bottle before John finally fell asleep. "Only Sherlock will know…," Jack whispered into the doctor's ear and spent the rest of the night watching the handsome man recovering from his very first adventure with both Jack and the Doctor.

And it wouldn't be the last…

* * *

**I am truly sorry that I haven't had time to develop further Doctor/ Sherlock or Sherlock/ Jack. I intend to write a sequel in which I deepen their relationships...if you want me to do. The sequel will probably be longer and better (!), with a better plot and without so many crossovers.**

**So please write me what you think and if you want some Sherlock action...please define action as if you'd ask Jack how he'd define it... ;)**


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